


They Shine for Us

by metafictionally



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metafictionally/pseuds/metafictionally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Nobody has ever touched him like this, paid attention like this. All the more reason for Hansol to be the first.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Shine for Us

**Author's Note:**

> for appy who made tdoge happen to me

This is the first time: Hansol kisses Byungjoo in the doorway to the kitchen, half in and half out of the light. Byungjoo is coming in to get a glass of water and Hansol has just finished with his, and he holds Byungjoo by the wrist and the edge of his jaw and kisses him, just the softest way he can, against the fullness of Byungjoo's lower lip. Byungjoo's mouth tastes like sugar. Hansol likes that very much.

"Oh," says Byungjoo, touching the tip of his tongue lightly to the place where Hansol's mouth has just been. He blushes. It spreads over his nose and cheekbones and then the tips of his ears. Hansol is sure his throat turns pink, even. He likes that even more. Byungjoo is so, so pretty, and Hansol wants to know just how far that blush goes.

"Just oh?" Hansol says. He's teasing, a little, because Byungjoo hasn't pulled away yet, so Hansol is probably in the clear. "That seems like a pretty blah reaction. Was it that bad?"

Byungjoo says nothing, worrying his lower lip between his teeth until Hansol reaches up and presses the pad of his thumb against it, freeing it so he can touch. Just to be sure, Hansol asks, "Can I do that again?"

Byungjoo nods, so Hansol kisses him again, and again, and again until Byungjoo's forgotten about his glass of water entirely.

 

Hansol catches a cold sometime in December and stays in bed for a full day, whining to anyone who will listen that his head hurts, his sinuses are full of snot, and he hates sounding like a chain-smoking grandfather. Sehyuk hyung indulges him for a little while, but he's quick to tag off to Dongsung hyung, who spends more time poking Hansol obnoxiously in the feet with a back scratcher than he does actually listening as Hansol bemoans his life.

"Someone drank the rest of the orange juice," Hansol says to Sangdo, poor, unfortunate Sangdo who only came into the room because he needed to put away his sweatshirt. "And I ran out of sinus medication so now I can't breathe through either of my nostrils."

"There's a pharmacy like, ten seconds away," Sangdo points out, as though Hansol isn't, in fact, on death's door at this very moment.

Affecting his very best severe illness expression, Hansol stretches a hand out toward Sangdo, who eyes it suspiciously. "Please," he gasps. "Please go to the pharmacy for me—"

But before Hansol can even finish the sentence ( _and get some orange juice while you're at it?_ ), Sangdo is gone, so fast that Hansol imagines a Sangdo-shaped dust cloud lingering in his wake. So much for bandmate camaraderie.

Jiho spends a moment with him too, and at least he's sweet, petting Hansol's hair soothingly and obediently passing his orange juice over every time Hansol asks for it. But Hansol, still, is unsatisfied—not for lack of affection from his bandmates, but for want of affection from someone else.

"Finally." is the first thing Hansol says when Byungjoo comes into the room, freshly showered and damp and exhausted from practice. The circles under his eyes are like bruises, but Byungjoo smiles anyway, the force of it lighting up his whole body. "I thought you forgot about me. Everyone else came home from practice half an hour ago."

Byungjoo shakes his head and climbs up onto Hansol's bed, settling in between the burrito of Hansol's body and the wall. "Nah," he says, tugging at a piece of Hansol's hair. "All I've been hearing about today is your epic complaining. I don't know how I could have forgotten you."

"It wasn't that epic," Hansol says.

"I heard you did a Dementor impression and begged Sangdo to go to the pharmacy for you."

For the sake of pretense Hansol tries to be petulant, but inside he's already relaxing. There are times when Byungjoo is just as loud and silly and obnoxious as any of them, but in moments like these, his hands are cool and his eyes, when he leans over Hansol, are impossibly fond. No matter what, at his very core, Byungjoo is soft as anything.

"Are you gonna take care of me?" Hansol asks, reaching out to curl his fingers in the front of Byungjoo's loose t-shirt. "I'm weak and helpless right now."

With a decidedly indelicate snort, Byungjoo shifts and stretches out on Hansol's mattress. "Stop whining and get some rest," he says. His fingers find the soft skin of Hansol's inner arm and trace along the veins visible through it, shockingly intimate for such a simple touch. "I've got you." He wiggles a little closer, presses his lips softly to Hansol's feverish forehead. "Sleep."

Got him, indeed.

In the morning, there's more orange juice in the refrigerator and a packet of medicine on the table. Hansol doesn't have to ask where it came from.

 

It doesn't take very long at all for Hansol to develop a habit of stripping Byungjoo slowly out of his clothes so he can look over every inch of pale skin that's revealed for him. 

His sweatshirt goes first, and then his socks, because honestly Hansol hates socks, even on other people and especially in bed. After that, Hansol takes his time with Byungjoo's pants, easing them down over his hips and slim thighs and strong calves. The first time he presses a kiss against the knob of bone at the inside of Byungjoo's ankle, Byungjoo nearly gasps and says, "Don't—" like he's shocked by being touched there—there, of all places. 

"Do you hate it?" Hansol asks. His thumb brushes over the place, making Byungjoo shiver.

"…No," Byungjoo admits, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead like that will be enough to forestall the flush that wants to spread over his cheeks. "Just—nobody has ever…"

Nobody has ever touched him like this, paid attention like this. All the more reason for Hansol to be the first.

He rids Byungjoo of his shirt next, traces his tongue along the ridge of Byungjoo's collarbones, leaving kisses in the hollow between them and just under his jaw, where his throat is soft and vulnerable. When Hansol sits back, Byungjoo is wearing only his underwear, and he is gorgeous, and Hansol is helpless to do anything but look.

Byungjoo blushes. "Why are you like this?" he demands.

But Hansol, Hansol is entranced—by the way Byungjoo turns pink, the way it spreads down his cheeks and throat, over his collarbones and nearly to his chest before it fades. He'd wanted, at the beginning, to know how far that blush went, but now that he does, Hansol doesn't think he'll ever find it less astounding.

"You're so—" he begins, then cuts himself off, unsure what words are best to describe Byungjoo.

In the end, as always, he explains himself with kisses. At least those, Byungjoo seems to understand.

 

Byungjoo doesn't live in Hansol's dorm, but he spends most nights there anyway, trading his spot to Sangwon so he can pretend there's something equitable about the way he curls up in the space between Hansol and the wall and locks their knees together. The other members have to have figured it out by now, Hansol thinks, because there's nothing _friends_ about the way he looks at Byungjoo when they share a pillow, whispering absolutely nothing to each other until they fall asleep, mid-sentence.

 

If pressed, Hansol would find it difficult to choose a time when he likes Byungjoo the most. When he wakes up, maybe, and Byungjoo is still half-asleep, the lines of the pillow creased on his cheek and his hair an absolute, unmitigated disaster, or when they're in practice and Hansol feels Byungjoo's fingers circle his wrist for only the briefest of seconds before he's gone—a moment of comfort that carries Hansol through even the roughest day.

This, though—this is probably it, when they're naked together and Byungjoo is so far gone he's not shy anymore, his cheeks pink only from exertion and pleasure as Hansol holds onto his hips and meets Byungjoo's every downward movement. Their skins slick with sweat and Hansol is very probably in love, feels it acutely in these moments, when Byungjoo lets himself be untamed.

There is a point at which all Byungjoo can say is " _Hansol_ ," gasping it out, his fingers braced hard against Hansol's sides.

And Hansol, he catches his breath in the back of his throat and says, "I've got you."

Later, Byungjoo falls asleep with his head pillowed on Hansol's sternum. Hansol strokes his hair and figures, yeah, this is all right. He could do this for a while.


End file.
